


For This Moment to Arrive

by orphan_account



Category: NSYNC
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-10
Updated: 2010-03-10
Packaged: 2017-10-07 20:46:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris is waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For This Moment to Arrive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jess](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Jess).



Chris knows Moe from way back when he had crooked teeth and his charm was more desperate than sarcastic. He realizes the difference now, and wonders if the girls he met actually liked him or pitied him. Moe knows, or so she says, and Chris believes her.

"They liked you, ass. Christ, with all the money you have now, you'd think you could get therapy for your issues." Moe fidgets on the bar stool near the kitchen block island. "What is with these seats? Jesus, they're so uncomfortable. Seriously, Chris, you have money. You can afford better chairs while you're at therapy. I've seen more comfortable chairs in prisons than this crap you're using."

"Fuck off, Moe. I paid a lot for those." He smiles at her, and she rolls her eyes. Her huge biceps flex as she makes choking gestures towards him in exasperation.

"I liked you fine, Chris. I probably would have even slept with you."

"Why didn't you?"

"No offense, but you're too small." She stops to look, and Chris feels that measuring gaze of hers all over him. After a few seconds, she smiles and says in a bad German accent, "I crush you like bug."

"I'm not into rough trade anyway." Chris pours her some margarita in a martini glass. She sips it delicately, something that throws Chris off even after all this time.

"I'm all about the vanilla these days," Moe says. She puts down her glass and purses her lips. "Needs more lime juice."

Chris grabs a few more limes from the fridge and rolls them on the counter with his palm.

"Tell me why I'm really here, Chris. What's the existential crisis?" Moe asks kindly.

Chris keeps rolling the limes on the counter.

"It's big, it has something to do with sex because your family would be here if it weren't and it has something to do with the guys because they'd be here too." Moe sighs. "You don't make things easy for yourself, do you?"

He cuts the limes in half and squeezes them on the white and yellow juicer.

"Chris." Moe is running out of patience. He hears her get off the stool to stand next to him. He looks up at her, her face softening with concern. "Come on, you know you can tell me anything."

He meets her eyes and says "I might be gay."

"Honey." She grabs him and holds him close, his face brushing her breasts.

"I knew the money I gave you would be good for something," he says as he burrows his face into her chest.

Moe's laugh is pained but amused. Her arms around him are strong and comforting. "Fake tits are as good as real ones in this case, huh?"

***

 

Moe was one of first people Chris met when he decided to pursue being a singer full time. She didn't have that much money, other than what she earned as a security guard and the little bit that she won in a few amateur bodybuilding competitions. She always made it a point to buy a ham and cheese sandwich on rye bread from one of the best delis in town just for him. She was one of the few people who really listened on the few times that Chris dared to sing on a street corner, and one of the few who left change.

They are up to double digits of glasses of margaritas now. Chris knows it's twenty but Moe, who's getting increasingly drunk despite her large frame, was insisting that they were only on their fifteenth.

"This would only be an issue," Moe says, her fingers randomly stabbing the air, "if you were attracted to someone."

"That's bullshit."

"Well, yeah, it sort of is, but isn't. You realized you were gay when you were attracted to someone, which is why there's this double freak out."

"Double?"

"Gay freak-out, and I like someone in a gay way freak-out."

"I hate you." How does she do this, Chris asks himself. This is what he wanted though. Moe has an amazing ability to cut through his bullshit.

"If it were me in the group," Moe says, her voice slurring a little, "and I was gay, I'd pick Joey."

Chris bursts out laughing. "Joey?" He can't even imagine kissing Joey seriously.

"Joey has meat. He won't crumple like, say, JC."

He gulps his margarita in a quick rush. Moe is tipsy, but she still has eyes that miss nothing.

"High maintenance too. Jesus, Chris. You want to adopt too? Your life isn't nearly complicated enough yet." Moe serves herself and shakes her head.

***

 

A year ago, JC had given Chris a painting of what seemed like random splashes of paint and random dots of paint. When Chris looked closer, it was still random splashes and random dots of paint, but he had told JC that he saw secrets there. He had lowered his voice without meaning to, had taken on the tone of sharing confidences, and said that the painting reminded him of hidden things, that the space to look at wasn't the color but the blank spaces themselves. The blank spaces told the story of the painting, he'd said to JC, the color was there to distract because there was something that had to be hidden.

JC's smile had kept growing wider and wider until his eyes crinkled into slits, until his mouth stretched from cheek to cheek. He had looked absolutely delighted under his plaid beret, his scruffy beard only making the whiteness of his teeth and the gleam of his eyes more vibrant.

"Or I could just be full of shit," Chris had said afterwards, after his stomach kept doing flips and wanting to heave its contents after realizations started trickling in.

"No, you're not." JC had looked so proud and Chris wanted that expression to stay there.

***

 

Moe leaves after midnight. Chris feels slightly better. He looks at the mess of tequila and lime juice and decides not to clean up until tomorrow morning.

His phone rings as he's brushing his teeth. The answering machine picks up, and Moe's voice is husky and clear.

"Hey Chris. You'll do what you want to do. I'll leave messages like this once in a while, but I gotta head back. Lake Ridge Plaza waits for no woman. Suck it up. Either you do something or you don't. Decide. If you do something, go all out free-balling. If you don't, suck it up. Hey, bub, I said take Broadview into—fuck! Broadview, asshole! It's quicker. I gotta go."

He's glad he already gave the cabbie a hundred bucks.

***

 

Chris finds Justin in his kitchen at 10:30 in the morning with his listening face on.

"Fuck."

"Moe was here?"

"You already know she was."

Justin starts dialing numbers on Chris' phone. Chris watches resignedly until he sees the familiar digits of JC's number being pressed.

"Not JC, fuckwad!" He grabs the phone from Justin's hand.

"Okay, okay, no JC." Justin looks at him, clearly thinking that Chris is losing his mind. He really can't blame Justin. His thoughts feel random and panicked. Meanwhile, Justin holds brief conversations with Lance and Joey that consists of grunts, "yeah" and "Chris has bacon."

"What are you doing here so early anyway?"

"We had plans remember? Golfing? Ring a bell?"

Chris rubs his eyes. "I forgot."

"Brush your teeth. Your breath stinks. Lance should be here soon."

As he trudges up the stairs, he hears eggs being scrambled in the pan. It was going to be a long day.

***

 

Six months ago, Chris had given JC pastel crayons. JC had said that he wanted to try something different with art, with a wistful tone that said it had as much to do about childhood as it did about art. Chris had gone to the best art supply store and bought the most expensive set with the most colours. They even had a distinctive smell, and their colours were bolder and richer than ordinary crayons.

JC had laughed with a kind of glee that Chris rarely saw in him, or for that matter, in any of them anymore. He found himself missing that, the early days when winning over a German crowd gave them the biggest high, when the girls finally started to shriek their names.

JC had brought out his sketchpad and tore out two pieces. They scribbled and coloured for hours, the world for all they cared reduced to a piece of paper and thick bright swirls. JC ended up drawing a complicated sunset and Chris had to stop himself from asking for the piece, wondering when he had turned this sentimental.

"Don't kill me," JC had said, and laid a quick peck on his forehead, a spot that felt like it burned for days afterward. He also gave Chris three derivatives of the primary colours: purple, crimson and gold. JC had slipped them into Chris' hand, the crayons leaving faint traces on their fingers. "You can sort of mix them. See?" JC had grabbed them again and coloured a piece of paper, making sure each colour overlapped. It looked like a weird greenish blotch. "You'll have all the colours too, in a way."

***

 

When Chris comes down after brushing his teeth and showering, he sees Justin, Joey and Lance sitting around the island in the kitchen. A plate of eggs with toast sits in the center, with a glass of orange juice on the side. He feels like he's heading towards his execution.

Chris takes his seat, and to their credit, they let him eat a few bites before Lance finally gathers the courage to ask, putting down his coffee first. It makes everything seem like an interrogation, the clink of the mug hitting his countertops. Moe was right, Chris thinks, these chairs are fucking uncomfortable, and they don't help the situation right now.

"What's going on?"

"Crap." He bites into his toast like it's a mission.

They know that Moe only comes when Chris is on the verge of a big something. They wait patiently.

"I'm kind of going through a crisis."

"Chris, FuMan isn't doing that well, yeah, but it will. I like your clothes," Joey said. He thrusts his chest out to the group.

"No one needs to see your nipples, Joe." Lance sips his coffee and leans back a bit to look speculatively at Chris. He feels like ducking his head under that gaze.

"Chris, man, seriously, what is it?" Justin really sounds worried.

Chris drinks some orange juice and sighs as it courses down his throat. He looks at his friends and wonders what will happen now.

"I think I'm gay."

Lance spits out his coffee. Joey and Justin stare with their mouths open.

"Um, wow." Lance gets up to get some paper towels, returning to the kitchen block island dabbing at his shirt.

"But, Dani." Joey says.

"Well, maybe gay is reaching. Bisexual? Fuck, I don't know. All I know is, a guy is suddenly hot to me."

Justin buttons the collar of his shirt. Chris wants to kick him but sees the expression on Lance's face. He knows that Lance is connecting the dots.

"Justin, grow up," Lance says. Chris smiles at him, and he smiles back and touches Chris's hand.

"You like Lance?" Joey squeaks out.

Chris rolls his eyes and gets up. He brings his plate to the sink and rinses them carefully. He can see his lawn from here, verdantly green. His fence is white concrete and very tall. His garden gnome's porcelain eyes stare blankly back at him. Everything looks normal.

"JC," he hears Justin say in a stunned voice. Chris closes his eyes and he feels his shoulders drop.

***

 

Years ago in Germany, Chris had smudged black eye shadow on his eyelids to get into a club with a name he hadn't been able to pronounce. JC had been doing a decent job of hiding his anxiety, but he kept smoothing his leather pants down while waiting for Chris to finish up.

"I want to fit in," JC had said worriedly.

"You will. Sit down."

Chris applied the dark makeup carefully around JC's eyes. JC's face had been warm in his hands. JC had smiled at him, all the trust in the world in those eyes.

"You sure I won't stick out?" JC had asked. He had blinked his eyes a lot to clear his vision and it made Chris feel twitchy, as if he had no control of his limbs. "I don't wanna embarrass you."

"You won't." He would, Chris had known it, but it was JC and it was his way. The club was mediocre, but the time he had there, with JC dancing with him, was definitely not. JC dancing freely was still JC dancing with precision, and people had picked up on it. Chris couldn't have cared less; JC was a good dancer regardless.

JC had disappeared for a half-hour, when the music became screechy noise for a little while. When Chris saw him again, he had just come out of the men's bathroom with a big smile on his face aimed right at Chris.

***

 

"I think what we need to establish is that this doesn't change what we think about you," Lance says. Chris can see Lance being intimidating in a board room, the way he takes command of uncomfortable situations like this.

"We're brothers, man." Joey thumps him on the back. Chris feels absurdly grateful.

"Brothers," Justin repeats.

They stare at each other awkwardly, all of them. Chris wants this to end soon, desperately.

"Has anything…happened?" Joey asks.

"No."

"Do you know if he has any-"

"No," Chris interrupts Joey. "Nothing has ever happened."

"Why now?" Justin asks quietly.

"I was lonely one day." He shuffles his feet; that admission was tougher than he thought it would be. "And I wanted him here."

"That's nothing, Chris. Jeez, if that's it, everyone here is gay." Justin fidgets in his chair.

"It's more than that," Chris says. Everyone looks at him expectantly, waiting for some elaboration, but he can't think of another word.

***

 

Two days ago, Chris had received a special delivery package from JC. It was a collection of coins from all the countries they've been in, all set beautifully in velvet underneath glass. He had called JC immediately afterwards to thank him, but all he got was JC's answering machine.

"Hey, this is JC. You know what to do. But if it's you Chris, you're welcome. I dunno, we're both anal about money in different ways, and you'd get what I meant, I think."

Chris had felt so warm. He didn't leave a message.

***

 

"I think I need to be alone now," Chris says.

They take their cues gracefully. They all leave with a minimum of words and noise, all walking quietly to Chris's front door.

"Brothers, man. Remember that," Justin says before he leaves. The others stand beside him, nodding like their bobble head dolls. It's funny, but Chris doesn't quite feel like laughing.

"Thanks." He's ignoring the crack in his voice, and the guys studiously do the same.

"Golf tomorrow?" Justin asks.

"Yeah, same time."

The house is quiet when they leave. He adjusts picture frames that are slanted. He stacks his plates neatly in his cupboards. He plays every game he has with X-Box, Gamecube and Playstation 2 but none of them hold his concentration for more than five minutes.

"Fuck this." He gets up to get his cordless phone. After a deep breath, he dials JC's number. JC seems very far away right now, and Chris wonders if he's doing a smart thing.

"Chris!" JC's delight is obvious, and Chris hopes it's a good sign.

"I was wondering if you wanted company," Chris said. He feels the blood rushing through his head and knows this is the right step to take, no matter what JC may or may not feel. "I was hoping we could talk."

 

THE END


End file.
